


Snapshots

by AnselaJonla



Category: Highlander: The Series, Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Comment Fic, Crossover, Ficlet, Other, Randomness, Short
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-13
Updated: 2015-08-13
Packaged: 2018-04-14 13:43:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4566747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnselaJonla/pseuds/AnselaJonla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snapshots of Highlander characters in different times, places, and universes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Advice

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first of several short Highlander fics, inspired by IRC conversations. There's little connection between them, besides the characters of the Highlander universe.

Methos offered his hand to the young Immortal on the floor, still sprawled where the Highlander had dropped her before wandering off from training in one of his sulks.

“I suppose you have some distinctly un-helpful advice for me as well,” she grumbled, accepting the assist. “Maybe a comment about how my gender puts me at a disadvantage? Or a snarky observation about how I’m too inexperienced to ever win a fight?”

“My advice is several magnitudes more useful than MacLeod’s,” Methos replied. He crossed the dojo to lounge on the bench, patting the space beside him for the ex-FBI agent to join him. “Do you still have your gun?”

“Yes. Why? MacLeod has made it very clear that guns are pointless for me now.”

“Keep it. Carry it. And when an Immortal challenges you, draw your sword _and_ your gun. Shoot the bastard first, then take his head while he’s down. That’ll keep you alive long enough to gain some experience to hold your own ‘properly’.”

“Why do I get the feeling that this is advice MacLeod wouldn’t approve of?”

“Why do you think I waited until he was out of the room?”


	2. Oh... shit

This was crazy! Insane! A branch whipped across his face, drawing blood from a long scratch. Shouts and gunfire echoed all around. He should never have agreed to this! He should have stayed on Earth, found something else to do with his shiny new doctorate, something safer.

He didn’t know where anyone was. He wasn’t even sure which way that camp lay in any more, he’d changed direction so often. Literally tripping over a wounded Wraith commander… not good. They struggled on the floor, clawed hands ripping and tearing, super-human strength winning out over human muscles.

He managed not to scream as his life was pulled out of him. Only one hand restrained him, claws digging lightly into his throat as the Wraith fed. If he could just… got it!

Two and a half foot of European steel sliced across the Wraith’s stomach. The look on its face as it released its feeding hold and staggered back almost made the pain of being fed on worthwhile. He surged to his feet, swinging the sword as he went. Up and across, like he’d practiced a million times before, and the Wraith’s head fell to the floor.

“What the- Ryan?”

Oh… shit.


	3. Flight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter goes back to Methos, and back in time.

“Eliana, please. We must leave.” Methos waved a bundle of papers at his landlady, a mortal woman that he had, against his better judgement, become attached to. This was not the first time he had had this argument with her. “Soon it will not be safe here, not for our kind.”

“You worry too much, Ezra. The danger is in Germany, hundreds of miles away. We are safe, here in Warsaw.” Eliana squeezed past Methos to reach into a cupboard in the cramped kitchen. “Go, fetch that husband of mine, tell him that dinner is almost ready and he is not to let it go cold while he pores over those musty old books all night.”

Methos sighed and stomped down the stairs. Maybe Isaak would have better luck in convincing Eliana that danger was on the horizon. The old Watcher had read enough of history to know how the wind was starting to blow.

Dinner was as delicious and filling as it usually was, even with the limited ingredients an old book seller and a low level clerk’s wages could afford. The clink of cutlery against crockery was the only sound in the kitchen for a short time.

“Look, Eliana, that madman will not be satisfied to stay in Germany. He will want more, this _lebensraum_ he has promised. And which way do you think he will go first? Into France, breaking his armies against the defences they’ve built since the last war? No, he’ll come this direction, into Poland. We have to leave, before that happens.”

“You are talking about war. Hasn’t there been enough of that? Wasn’t the last one enough? You’re too young to remember it, but my Isaak can tell you all about it. Hitler was there as well, he knows what horror war brings. He wouldn’t wish that on his own people. Tell him, Isaak!”

Isaak sighed, and tugged on his scraggly beard. He’d never grown it out again fully, after cutting it to fit into the gas mask he’d needed in the trenches. “Who is to say he would be opposed if he came into Poland? England is weak, they speak only of appeasing him. Russia has its own problems. And even if it does not happen, where is the harm in leaving Poland? Just to be safe.”

Methos grinned, pleased that the Watcher had the sense to back him up. Taking extra measures to be safe was always a good idea. “Excellent. I have papers for all of us, that will get us over to America, via England. We can leave whenever you’re ready.”

“You expect me to just leave? What about Gideon? Hannah? Malka? You remember them? You brother, and daughters? You want to abandon their children to this hypothetical fate?” Eliana slammed her hand down on the table. “I will not leave my family!”

“I can get papers for them as well, Eliana. I already did. I knew you wouldn’t want to leave them behind.” Methos laid the documents down on the table, spreading them out so Eliana could see the names enscribed on them. “I even included Joshua,” he added, for Isaak’s sake, whose job it was to Watch that particular Immortal, a casualty of the great war.

“I will have to discuss this with them,” Eliana eventually said, gathering up the papers.

\---

***A month later***

Methos stood on the prow of the boat, breathing in the salt spray and feeling the sting on it on his skin. He still wasn’t a massive fan of the infernal things, but when they were saving his neck, he was prepared to tolerate them. They’d escaped just in time, Methos, Isaak, Eliana, and over a dozen members of their extended family. The news of the invasion of Poland had spread around the ship like wildfire just that morning. They were safely in the middle of the Atlantic, on their way to America and freedom.


End file.
